Stop me if you've heard this one... Actually, don't.

In an effort to break my recent string of blogger's block, I employed an old tactic that I introduced a while back as a challenge to other bloggers. If anyone's interested I'd be glad to set you up, but in this case I just needed to write something. Alice was kind enough to provide the opening and closing lines this time.

Also, for those who give anything resembling a flying fuck about my progress on guitar, I've been doing some blues rythm licks with some success. Anyways, without any further ado, tonight's installment.



"Suffering, a morally undeserved problem is considered a form of Evil in some cultures and although not necessarily considered the same thing in this country where a large percentage of the population is Christian and to believe suffering is evil would then in some way mean their God was evil..."

The airplane continued to cruise at 30,000 feet and I could barely stay awake, much less pay attention. The previous day had been a waking nightmare, and while the caffiene that had facilitated its sustenance had yet to completely loose its grip upon me, all it was doing at the moment was keeping my consciousness in a sort of limbo. So while I desperately wanted to comprehend the discourse of the stunning woman sitting to my right, no amount of willpower would make it so.

Ok. So I can't hack it. That doesn't mean this has to turn into the type of travesty I always do. All I need to do is find a way to nod out of this gracefully. But how the fuck do I explain myself in a way that doesn't seem like an over-elaborate lie?

Yeah, so right now you're probably wondering what the fuck I'm talking about. It's like this. Two days ago I was cornered in an alley by a scraggly man peddling crack and copies of Dianetics. Because I'm a bit of a debate addict I pointed out the inherent contradiction, and the man, by now used to people just telling him to piss off, laid into me with some bullshit rant that I took specific care to forget all about as it was mind poison. As he spoke a crowd of his ilk formed around him. His choir, as it were. Singing the praises of Scientology and crack cocaine in a harmony that could only be described as the result of their severely altered state of being. I knew I had to act quickly.

"It's coming..." I said with a quiver in my voice as I stared off in the distance. Confusion followed as the surrounding mass searched for an antecedent. That was all the time I needed. I did a backflip, kicking the preacher in the face and springing off the wall. I got about five steps ahead of the congregation before they started to follow. I'd be cutting it close.

I ducked down another alley and removed my trusted ally from my belt. It's forty inches long and sharp; a gift from a man in Okinawa made specially for me.

As soon as I saw the first head clear the brick wall I swung and struck flesh and bone. The next three froze in shock, and they soon joined their fellow parishoner on the pavement.

I broke into a run as the rest of the fuckheads made after me. There was a fire escape thirty yards away. I could make it. climbed the wobbling metal stair in record time and waited on the rooftop. The thought of breaking it off from the top dwelled in my mind for a moment, but I didn't see the need. I had these fuckers where I wanted them. There were a dozen left, making their way up incognizant of the doom that awaited them at the top. And one by one, they fell.

And then came the sirens. I'd been tipped off. I knew what I had to do.

Beneath a manhole cover at the outskirts of town I hid, listening to the police scanner I had stashed there for that purpose.

Suspect is a male over six feet tall and is to be considered armed and dangerous

In most towns, the cops always witheld details from the airwaves, so that the fugitive never knew all that they knew. At some point the chief in this town decided to end this policy to get the crooks to assume that they knew more than they did. And for the most part no one caught on because the fugitives, even the ones just trying to skip out on a jaywalking rap, tended to wind up dead. I survived. I knew.

All I needed to do to beat this was hop a plane and avoid getting arrested during their standard round-up of males over six feet tall. I'd done this before. And each time it was a kill-or be killed situation.

You know, the fact that I have to do this so much just to keep my hide intact must mean that if there is a God guiding earthly events he must be either cool with me killing people or holding some kind of grudge that's beyond my understanding. Wait a sec, that sounds familiar...

Oh shit, I forgot about her! She's been talking this whole time and I haven't listened to a word. I've got to find a way back into this conversation. Maybe If I focus I can piece it together. I really don't want her to get the wrong idea about me

My focus returned as she finished her piece:

"So I conclude that in certain circumstances it is ok to do somebody on the first date."